Emperor
Fairy Tale
As the first ray of sunlight kissed the roof of their tiny bungalow, Elijah awoke with a sleepy yawn, eyes fluttering awake with a curious feeling that today was different. And that curious feeling stayed with him, the idea that today would be anything but ordinary, as he shuffled out of their tiny home looking for his sweet mother. And it seemed as he peered around their dewy yard, that an inconspicuous trail of gold footprints led in the forest, beckoning him forth as if calling his name.
They had made their home in a small bungalow on the edge of the woods, just the two of them, Elijah and his dear mom Sheila. He had never known another home, having spent eight years behind its weathered stone walls covered with a thick carpet of emerald ivy. They reminded him of snakes, wounding their way up from the ground, clinging to each crevice and nook that once gave him the frightful idea that the stone was choking before his mother reassured him. Tall, stained windows peeked out from their leafy embrace, their decorative glass panels partially obscured, casting the inside with dappled rays of sunlight that broke his tranquil sleep. It was a quaint little house, but it was his home, a part of his heart almost as much as it was a part of nature.
Elijah rubbed his eyes, believing that the fingerprints were but a trick of the light. Only to find to his astonishment that they remained, glowing faintly under the shadow of the forest, a path of gold that led deep into the forest. He took a trembling step forward, unsure of where it headed, until he stopped, his stomach grumbling.
He shook his head, his quest to find the golden path disturbed by the simple act of forgetting his breakfast. Elijah looked down sombrely, hoping that whatever the golden trail was it would stay as he turned around to head back inside, his mother’s voice playing softly in his head.
You have to eat my little Eli if you want to become a warrior.
Ever since he was a kid, he had always dreamed of becoming a fierce warrior of the Emerald Isle. And though his frame was slight, and his tousled hair was always a mess, his mother would laugh as he crafted swords and shields from broken branches. Their little home was his battlefield, where he bravely faced off against hidden foes and imaginary beasts. And every night his mother would tuck him in bed, singing stories of faraway lands where knights battled dragons for the hand of a fair noble. Each day his mother supported his fervent endeavor, only making him promise that he would never wander away from their home, But Elijah knew that deep in the forest, he would find his adventure and be the hero in both of their stories.
Tentatively he picked up a little rice cake, his little finger feeling the groves in the surface before chewing off a little edge. If his mother was here, she would have scolded him, telling him to take a big bite instead to not cause crumbs. He took another bite, a sizable one that left it in a heavy moon crescent before shoving it back in his pocket.
That would be enough for a warrior breakfast.
Carried with renewed energy, Elijah busted outside, the door swinging shut with a loud slam as he dashed to the golden footprint. All his eager energy dissipated as he neared the forest edge, his breath stuck in his throat as he slowed to a stop. This was the first time he would disobey his mother as he glanced back to their abode, half expecting his mother to appear, shouting at him to back away. But deep inside of him, the call of adventure tugged at his heart, and courage swelled inside of him as he glanced at the shimmering trail of gold.
A knight would always answer a quest.
Elijah silenced the voices in his head as he pushed past the thorn walls that protected the forest entrance. As he stepped into the forest, a sudden calm washed over him as he glanced upwards, the dappled sunlight filtered through the emerald canopy. All around him, towering maples and oaks flanked his side, their trunks thick and ancient, each one standing like loyal servants at his side. He imagined, like all kids his age, he was wandering through a forgotten realm, looking for a beast to slay to bring honor back home. A twig snapped, and he jumped, scanning his surroundings for any imminent source of danger.
The air was cooler here and quickly he lost all sense of direction, only guided forth by the mysterious trail of summer gold. Elijah bent forward, weighing a hefty stick in his hand before brandishing it as a mighty claymore, swinging it forward to cut away the thick foliage in front of him. He felt a thrill of excitement as his dreams seemed to flourish right before his eyes, he was a knight on an adventure, traversing the wild wilderness in search of secrets that he could swear were just around the bend. And the forest seemingly picked up on his energy, he was perhaps the first to navigate its uncharted region. Huge branches swayed above, disturbing the ray of sunlight that was cast into the forbidden realm, each step becoming only slightly darker as the sun reached its zenith.
Elijah’s heart raced with curiosity, his small hand reaching out to touch the ferns that clung to his legs, little arms that stretched forth to bask in the sun’s rays. Around him, the occasional flutter of wings or the snapping of a twig alerted his attention, but he brushed it off, his heart focused on the trail he blazed. Each step renewed his energy as he set forth, using his sword to batter away thorny branches and strangling vines until at last he had found where the golden trail had led him.
His heart dropped to his stomach as he glanced forward. Before him stood a massive oak, the biggest he had ever seen in his life, its trunk impossibly large and he daunted even twelve people could wrap their hands around it. Its bark, which he caressed with his little hands, was dark and deeply furrowed, bore the mark of centuries passed as if it lived through the stories his mother once told him as a kid. Elijah glanced up, his neck straightening as he watched towering branches cover the sky, its branches twisting in every direction so dense that not even a drop of sunlight could touch him. And yet, it seemed as if the forest knew about this perpetual darkness and so all around Elijah grew glowing mushrooms. They came in an array of colors, deep blues, vibrant red, emerald green, and shocking yellow, each one pulsating like a mini light, casting colorful shadows all over the great oak.
He stood there, transfixed, observing the great tree that stood in front of him. This was his first quest, a magnificent quest for a knight that had led him to a magical place. For the first time in his life, he felt as if he was finally in a story of his own and that his dreams could come true.
Elijah yawned. He felt drowsy, and though he knew that he had to get home before his mom, a part of him wanted to stay and explore. After all, a knight’s quest didn’t stop the instant he arrived but after he explored. Above him the great oak limbs reminded him of his mother, stretching out as if in a giant embrace, comforting him as the leaves sang an archaic lullaby in the wind as he lay in the crook of the tree’s root. His eyelids grew heavy, the earthy scent of dirt and the captivating scent of wildflowers sent him into a dreamless sleep. And while he slept, the oak stood over him, as if guarding the child from the danger of the woods, ensuring that he would sleep well.
Elijah stirred from his deep slumber, a gentle breeze rustling through the canopy of emerald and gold. He blinked groggily, his eyes adjusting to the soft shimmer of light scattered around him, a little droplet of pure sunlight. His muscles ached from his awkward position as Elijah sat up slowly, using the great oak roots as a little stool. The great oak branches remained the same, still inspiring awe deep inside of him as he glanced up, his eyes tracing the intricate weave of branches that crisscrossed above him till his heart stopped.
Oh, it’s almost dark. Mom gonna kill me.
He picked up his branch for a knight never leaves behind his weapon as he made his way out of the grove. Fear danced in his heart as his mind raced on the fact that his mother could already be home, ready to scowl at him for his recklessness today. And to make things worse, he didn’t have time to do any of his chores so even if he got home, he was still going to be yelled at whether it was for disobeying or laziness. Elijah glanced around one last time for he knew that it would be a long time before he ventured into the wood, and he noticed how sharply the mushrooms glowed, their vibrant array of colors casting a warm ethereal glow. The air felt magical, almost more magical since he first entered this hidden domain, charged with an energy that dissipated the ice in his heart and left him with a renewed feeling of anticipation.
Elijah stopped.
Something was off.
Then, from the corner of his eye, he spotted them.
Standing all around the great oak roots and some daring to sit in its lowest branches. He didn’t know who they were, and they seemed to come in a variety of different shapes. But each was the color of slate gray, resembling little golems of clay fashioned from the earth which explained some of their misbegotten appearance. Their eyes were hollowed, two little dots of pitch black that stared at Elijah from afar.
They watched him with a gentle, serene expression, some of them notching their head as they watched him, almost as if they had never seen a human before. They didn’t speak, or at least he didn’t think they could because they had no mouth, yet Elijah felt as if this was why he was led here, that they were the adventure he was seeking.
For a moment Elijah stood at the edge of the clearing, watching the curious village of little clay dolls. And yet the strangest thing was he never felt any sort of fear, it was just a feeling of calm and wonder. It was almost as if the forest had offered him a hug and he took it, letting the warm feeling soak inside of him as he grinned wildly.
Elijah hesitated for just a moment, fearing that the tiny village would dissipate as soon as he closed the distance between them. Some of them scattered into nooks and crannies, but the majority stood there, watching him advance slowly toward them. Instinctively, he put out his hand, and one of the little clay people took it, shaking it in return as he notched his head at him. He was like the rest, save for the fact his head was shaped like one of the summer squashes his mother used to grow.
“Friends?”
The little clayman shook his head in silent agreement. The few who fled darted out from their hiding place, joining in as they raced to see the stranger. Some of them gave him gifts of small flowers and little tree nuts that he shoved into his pocket without a moment of hesitation. While others raced around his feet or threw flower petals in his hair as Elijah laughed uncontrollably, his raucous laughter reverberating throughout the ancient woods.
Elijah understood. At this moment, this was what it felt like to be a knight. That each adventure offered him the experience of a lifetime. This was what the forest was, not some great terrain one had to venture through, but a living place where magic and life coexist.
He stood still for a moment, watching the little clay people go about their daily lives now that they weren’t afraid of him. But a sunken feeling in his heart told him that it was time to leave, that though he wished to explore more of this fantasy side of the forest, a familiar feeling tugged at his heart.
As Elijah stood up, the little clayman climbed up his arm, waving around a little twig of his own as if to mimic Elijah’s fantasy. Elijah laughed as the Clayman pointed his sword onward, past the great oak tree and deeper into the forest. He knew home wasn’t in that direction and though the pit in his stomach grew, his desire to explore clouded his longing for home.
The Clayman waved his hand, and a couple of them dashed into the tree, fetching a tiny buttercup cup filled with a pale, translucent liquid. Elijah took the cup from them, taking a sip before letting the flower drift lazily back to the ground.
His mother always told him to be careful, but these were his friends and he trusted them.
Elijah’s eyes began to drop as he trudged forward into the underbrush, heavy drowsiness that crept over him. The little claymen stood around the base of their tree, seemingly smiling at him through their ghoulish face. He took a step forward, the little chief on his shoulder clapping in excitement, encouraging him just like his mother used to when he went on his adventures.
Mother.
He had forgotten about her for a moment.
His mind wandered, drifting off to his fantasy of being a knight and back to his mother, her face slowly disappearing in the wave of his conscience. He tried to pick up a piece, but it was hopeless, her face melting into a sand of memory as he fantasized about fighting dragons and saving princesses.
Elijah’s steps slowed as he reached out a shaky hand, grasping a low branch of the great oak to steady himself. He stumbled slightly, the vibrant energy of his youth slowly fading with each passing second. A aprt of him wanted to lie down but he knew that something layed beyond the oak tree, something greater that his friends were trying to show him.
“Elijah!”
The voice was sharp, punctuating the wind like a swift blade, lifting across the canopy of the forest. Elijah turned, his mind briefly snapping to attention as he looked around, hoping to spot his mom tucked away in the lush emerald growth of the forest.
The little chiefs smack his neck with the tiny sword, stomping his feet on Elijah’s shoulder blade.
A knight must not delay for adventure is always a step away.
“Elijah!”
This time he did not turn.
It was a voice of the wind, his friend seemingly told him, pointing ahead deeper into the forest, urging him to take another step. It was all an attempt to distract him, true adventure layed ahead.
The forest trembled, something huge was out there and Elijah picked up his sword as his eyelids grew heavy. He imagined a great dragon, bursting from the forest as it spewed fire, torching the trees and singed the ground. Shadows twisted around him, contorting as the sound of the rumbling grew closer. Elijah stumbled as the ground quaked as if the earth recoiled from the darkness it carried. And all around him, the life of the forest died, its melody silenced as if it was taken as a low guttural roar tore through the forest.
Shelia’s heart pounded as she hurried through the woods, searching desperately for her son through the long shadows that crept forward like fingers. She pushed through low-hanging branches, her fingers trembling as she ripped out thorns that snagged her shraw and pushed aside wet mounds of leaves.
“Elijah,” she cried, her voice raspy and horse.
Fear tighneted in her chest as she dashed forward, knowing that each second that passed only worsened her suspicion. Blood wept from her arms, and her body ached, but her motherly instinct carried her forward, desperate to find her little knight.
Up ahead she spotted her son, climbing past the old oak that separated the old growth and the new growth. Her mother used to tell her the ground was bad around these parts and fear clung to her as she busted through the thick brush. The little clayman scattered, as she dashed towards Elijah, scoping him in her arms as she caught him before he collapsed. She caressed his forehead, whipping away the leaves that clung to his face as she hugged his body, letting her warmth seep into him.
A sudden gust of wind swept through the clearing, seizing her hair in a violent gust before it settled. The eerie stillness stopped and around her the forest awoke, slowly breathing life again as birds began to chirp and twigs snapped revealing the creature that called this place home. Elijah’s heart rosed and Shelia signed a breath of relief as she scooped him in her arms, carrying him back home.
Maybe it was time for the truth.
But she shook her head, knowing that Elijah would never understand. This was just another trick, but she wouldn’t let his father steal him away from her.
